


Running Blind

by NastyRatBoy



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Agony, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dead reader, Death, Guilt, Halloween, Killing, Mental Health Issues, Other, Smith's Grove, genderneutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NastyRatBoy/pseuds/NastyRatBoy
Summary: It's the most horrific thing that ever happened to Michael, he killed you! And if that wouldn't be terrible enough Dr. Loomis shows up, ripping you away from Michael, from home...





	1. Calling your name, I hear only echoes

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off as an ask, but developed into a tiny fic^^ Reader is genderneutral! 
> 
> If you are easily triggered by death or other tagged topics pls don't read.
> 
> Titel and chapter titles from "Running blind" by TaTu

It was just when he heard a dull thud behind him that he got aware something was wrong. The blade of his knife was still burried into the intruders neck and pulling it free roughtly to be able to turn around it made a squishy sound joined by a fountain of blood. When his gaze catched your huddled form on the floor, white noise filled his ears and his body turned numb immediately. The knife made a metallic sound when it hit the floor and his knees cracked when hitting the wooden boards, but he only heard it through a thick haze. A pool of blood was forming around you, spreading over the floor and Michaels eyes darted back and forth searching for the caurse of your bleeding. The air behind his mask got thin by his rapid breathing when he reached out and slowly turned you over onto your back. Everything felt like in slow motion, despite the raging panic grabbing him. It hit him like a train when he discovered the reason for the blood, his head starting to spin and his skin feeling as if at least two numbers too small.

He moved and leaned over you, the fabric of his suit soaking up your blood while shaking hands reached for the long cut drawn over your stomach. Moving your shirt out of the way, they revealed the whole extent of the knifes sharp blade. How did that happen??! He was going for the guy that threatened to harm you, swinging the blade…swinging the blade! He must’ve reached you without noticing, the cut matched, sliced deep into the tissue of your stomach. Desperate whimpers and growls left his throat while he pressed his hands to the cut, trying to close it and stop the blood from spilling out. But it was useless. It was drawn so deep and wide, there was no way he could constrict the wound. Though his hands kept on trying, not knowing what else to do. Whimpering and growling his gaze left the cut, shooting up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your lips slightly parted and drained from their color, your skin so pale you looked like a ghost. His hands pressed even harder and he watched your face closely, waiting for you to whince or frown by the pressure on the wound, but you remained still. A fresh wave of panic and nausea hit him and he leaned in over your face, his head turned to listen for breath. There was none, you weren’t breathing! He backed up, staring down at you, his own breath catching in his throat. It can’t be true! You can’t be dead! Lowering again, his head came to rest on your chest. Tears were stinging in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall behind the mask when he desperately listened for your heartbeat. Momemts went by, stretching painfully long and Michael hold his own breath to be able to hear just the tiniest noises, but the familar badumm-badumm never came. The only thing he heard was the silence of the room around him getting louder and louder and his own racing pulse beat, hammering and throbbing in his ears.

His arms slid around your limp body, pressing you against his chest when he straightened up, pulling you onto his lap. A bloodcurdling scream full of pain and agony rippled through the house followed by sobs and chokes. Your lifeless body was now fully hidden by Michael, holding you as tight as possible. He rocked back and forth, whimpering between his sobs and chokes, desperately wishing to awake from this nightmare.

But it went on, the yearned awakening staying out and the following days went by with Michael trapped in a haze of pain mixed with numbness. He hadn‘t known one could feel this way. Hurting and the same time numb as if constricting a limb, but he did. He did and he was sure he would feel this way for the rest of his life. The suffocating guilt had joined his emotional state just the moment his mind had finally managed to really aknowledge that you were gone. He did this to you. To you, the only one who ever meant something to him…everything! He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, holding you and rocking you both, but when he finally managed to stop, the blood on his hands and on your body had long dried. Light was slipping inside through the curtains and birds were chirping. A new day had come as if nothing had happened. Carefully he had picked you up, carrying you upstairs and placed you on your shared bed. He arranged your body, your hands resting over the cut on your stomach, your hair thoroughly stroked out of your face. Standing there next to the bed, staring down at you and getting devoured by nothing but helplessness, he thought you almost looked like you were only sleeping. As stupid it was, his despair let a spark of hope flicker up inside him that maybe you really were just sleeping. It faded soon as he kept on staring at you, crouching down beside the bed. Your skin had taken the shade he just was too familar with, your body already beginning to stiffen when he had placed you on the bed. You had left, eveything remaining just an empty shell. Carefully he took one of your hands into his, resting his head onto the matress next to you.

Light and darkness alternated, time steadily running farward, but Michael stood still. He barely moved, only shifting here and there, but not leaving your side. Memories played inside his mind and he watched them like a movie over and over again. Never had he thought there would be someone matching him, someone that seemed to be made for him. But there you were, suddenly appearing in his life and with bitterness he understood, before you showed up, his existence hadn’t qualified to be called „life“. All the hidden emotions you were able to awaken, they died now, lacking your constant presence and energy. His soul had feast on you, devouring what it had missed for so long and now, now it would starve again. Eventually Michael lifted his head from the matress, his tears dried up. Your hand still rested in his, the stiffness had left your body again and he knew what he had to do next. It made him shiver only thinking about it. Fear and overwhelming sadness were crashing into him when he imagined your small form placed into a hole in the ground. Inside his head the thoughts rushed. He could keep you here, keep you in this room, safe and secure being with him. He would arrange you as comfortable as possible, building a shrine for you, bringing you flowers and candles. You deserved to be worshipped and it teared his heart to think about abandon you into total darkness. Clutching your hand tighter, the question what you would’ve wanted crossed his mind. Would you want him to keep your corpse? Transforming into a decomposing keepsake he would keep like a hidden treassure? Probartely not… „It’s only a body…“, you would’ve said, „…Dead meat, like the meat on your plate!“. As morbid and ironic it was, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips remembering your words, your being, always straight out, always the flat truth, so different to himself.

Michael waited until night had fallen and wrapped his small hometown into a heavy blanket of darkness and silence. Thick clouds were hanging the sky, letting the moonlight only barely shine through. Standing at the bedroom window, his hands gripped the windowswill tightly and he stared down into the backyard. You would’ve liked it to find your last rest in a forest, surrounded by nothing but nature, but as much as he wanted to act on your will, he couldn’t bring himself to settle with the idea bringing you away. When he couldn’t keep you in the house, he would at least keep you as close as possible. Turning slowly, his gaze wandered over to the bed again. He had wrapped your body into the blanket you both always used to sleep with, oh so careful not to wrap it too tightly. A quiet sob pushed out of his throat when he hesitantely walked over, eyening your wrapped up figure. He didn’t know why, but seeing you like this made it even worse. Not seeing your face, not being able to silently admire your shape, it filled him with endless anxiety. You gave him stability, grounded him and now you were gone. He himself had destroyed the only anchor he ever had. With shaking hands, he slid his arms under you, picking you up carefully, making sure your head rested against his chest. The way out of the room, down the stairs and out of the back door smudged in a blurr and he only noticed the shaking of his legs when you arrived at the spot he had watched out from above. With gentleness only you were able to coax out of him, he placed your body down onto the overgrown grass, staring for long moments before being able to walk away to grab a shovel. Digging the hole, his mind wandered off to your shared time again, his body acting on autopilot, silent tears falling behind the mask. When he came around again, the hole was deeper as he intended it to be. His heart ached knowing you would be burried under such a thick layer of soil and his chest tightened, but it was better this way he guessed. At least, nothing would be able to harm you in the deep. Not even him.

Your body was placed into the whole as careful and gentle as possible, Michael making sure you layed comfortable. He crouched in the hole, hovering over you, telling you his goodbye inside his head while he strocked your covered cheek for the last time. He never had told you that he loved you, not sure if he was even able to love and insecure if he told you, he couldn’t meet your expectation. Now that there was no chance to tell you anymore, it only increased the guilt that grasped him with sharp claws. It teared and ripped at him and he knew soon it would posess him entirely. It would erase what had been there, what you had managed to bring up close to the surface and he deserved it. Leaning in, he placed a last gentle, masked kiss to your forehead before climbing out of the hole. Standing in front of it, something sparkling flew into the ground, landing perfectly in the middle of your chest. You had given it to him. He hadn’t understand what it meant, wasn’t able to comprehend the sentimental meaning it had to you and what it meant to give it to him, but he knew he had to give it back to you. He failed you, in a moment of unwariness destroyed everything good that ever happened to him. No, he doesn’t deserved it anymore and the silvery necklace should be burried with you.

The night went on with Michael staring down into the hole without moving only an inch. His mind raced, but his body was frozen, unable to continue for what seemed like hours. When he eventually managed to grab the shovel again, every time the wet soil fell onto you, it struck through him, making him flinch and twitch. Resistance joined every movement and most of all he wanted to get you out of the ground again, bringing you inside, but he resisted, knowing you wouldn’t have wanted it. When the earth finally reached ground level, the shovel fell from his hands. There was no energy left in them, no energy left in his body and being. In silence he turned around and went back inside. Making his way back to the bedroom, every step threatened to let his knees buckle under him. He slid through the open door, feeling like only a shadow of himself. His gaze shifted out of the window, the ground of your fresh grave standing in high contrast to the over grown grass that occupied the yard. Whimpering, he eventually collapsed next to the bed. His hands reached out, desperately clutching the sheets you had rested on only hours ago. They were cold and the coldness crept into his fingers, pouring into his arms and spreading into his whole body. Violent sobs and chokes disturbed the silence of the room, when it made it’s way into his very core, grabbing him mercylessly with a promise to stay no matter what would happen.


	2. Phantoms of you are burning inside me

They were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, listening to every word they said. They, Dr. Loomis and a mid aged women he couldn’t recognize discussed what the best medication could be, while he sat there with a blank face, wrists and ankles secured by shackles, connected to a chain around his waist. Loomis not even once adressed him, but who could blame him. He tried many times without ever getting a response and it must’ve rankle him intensly. A fact that made Michael smirk inwardly.

The day Loomis had showed up had started nothing different then the others since you were gone. Michael had lost track about the number, guessing by the changing of seasons it must’ve been around half a year. When he had commited the biggest mistake of his life, it had been early fall. The weather had been still warm enough for you to wear shorts that showed off your slender thighs and send a curtain itch into his fingers, but the nights had already been chilly and it showed when you snuggled up to him even closer, seeking the warmth of his body in your sleep.

When Loomis had dared to disturb you, winter had been in it‘s final throes. The days began to get warmer, buds of wild vegetation in the yard starting to grow, but the nights had been as chilly as the last ones you had spend together. The time in between went by with Michael fallen into a kind of shut down. He barely left the house, only when being in critical need for food and then he wouldn’t take his knife with him. Indeed he hadn’t touched it since the night he lost you and he wasn’t planning to any time soon. The spot where you were resting had been still very prominent, sticking out of the thick wild growing grass and often when standing there and just staring down at you, Michael had asked himself if he should allow nature to hide you or keep the vegetation away from your grave. You would’ve liked it getting swallowed by nature, hidden as if you never had been there and he guessed he would allow the plants to grow a blanket over your grave when the time was there. Anyways he doesn’t needed to see the excavated soil to know where exactly you were. He had been able to find the spot in his sleep, literally. Not only once had he woken up crouching on the ground of the backyard in front of you, confused and wondering how he had ended up there, tears sliding down his cheeks. But he wouldn’t have to worry about these things anymore, would he?

It had been one of those deep sleeps he occured to fall into since you were gone when strange noises made him gradually come around. His regular sleeping spot had become the floor in front of the bed. Michael wasn’t aware why, but after burrying you he hadn’t been able to bring himself to lay down onto the matress. The sheets still showed the blood that your dead body had left there, meanwhile turned into a more dark, reddish brown than the crimson it had been. When getting into contact with the bed, it were his fingers tracing the shape of the spots oh so slightly or his head resting on the edge of the matress, but without you it had lost it's comfort. So when he slowly rose, disturbed by what sounded like wet gravel getting moved, his body had ached caused by the comfort the wooden boards offered. Sitting there for a moment he had listened to the noises, his senses already on high alert despite the comatose sleep. It was strange. He had never been much of a sleeper, needing not much of it and it always had been a light sleep, more of a doze, but since you were gone it had become so deep that sometimes it took him several attempts to fully awake.

The noises stopped abruptly and a muffled voice squeezed through the closed bedroom window. It was too dull to understand the words spoken, but alone it’s intonation had made his skin crawl and his body stiffen. He hadn’t have to see to know who it was. That voice had spoken to him so often, always having this nervsawing calm pitch that made him want to jump the man it belonged to. Slowly Michael straightened up from the floor, sneaking to the window and hoping it was just his sleepy mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t and the moment he saw the figure standing next to your opened up grave his mind got blinded by furious rage.

Before he knew he had been outside, pacing through the backyard, searching for the impudent intruder. The figure had been no where to be seen as if disappearing into thin air and when he came across your opened up grave he froze, suddenly forgetting about the man he was chasing. The blanket he had carefully wrapped your body into was dirty and stained by the wet soil. It clung to you, vague revealing the state of decomposing your body was in and it was enough to make his whole being scream. His eyes clenched shut and as much as he wanted to look at you he turned away, not able to stand the images forming in his mind. It was a crime to expose you like that and the Doctor would pay for it!

The sound of cars driving up had ripped him out of his agony again. Hectically he turned around, crossing the yard quickly to press himself against the wall of the house. Blinking red and blue lights were shining around the corner dancing on the facade, besides that silence, no talking, no shifting, no car doors opening or closing, nothing. They were waiting, Loomis probartely hiding in their middle, but that was something the psychiatrist could absolutely forget about! As obvious it had been that it was a trap, the Doctor needed to bleed for what he had done!

The rage inside had increased from furious to brightly burning, devouring everything else with it’s white flames and without thinking anything through Michael had turned the corner. With long and fast steps he made his way along the houses side not knowing how many cops gathered up in front, but anyways it hadn’t mattered in that moment. He would smash everyone who would dare to step in his way, main thing he would get to Loomis. The moment he turned the next corner, stepping in front of the house he had heard the clicking of guns getting unlocked. Though he recognized the sounds, they had been so dull and far away that his mind hadn’t bothered to cry havoc. His eyes darted from side to side, rapidly searching for the Doctor not minding to actually count the guns that were aimed at him. He spotted him hiding behind three men and though someone was shouting at him, he kept on going not giving a shit about the fact that he was absolutely and totally outnumbered and even unarmed. He hadn’t grabbed his knife on his way out.

The first thing that struck him had set his nerves on fire, making every muscle in his body tense and burn. The electricity shot into every tiny corner of his body and the muscles in his legs threatened to spasm, but he still strode forward, jaws clenched tight and his hands balled into fists. Everything appeared like he would wear blinkers, left and right not existing, the only thing he was focused on the Doctor who started to look seriously worried. Something bit into his shoulder, spreading a stinging pain into his whole upper body. The shouting got louder, but it still wasn’t able to reach his mind. His hand grabbed one of the officers by the neck, Michael registering it only through a thick haze. The man got yerked around and pushed into his two closest standing colleagues, the same moment another bite tore into Michaels body. His right calve started to sting like his shoulder, sending the pain up into his thight and this time he noticed the previous bang. For a short moment his knees buckled, sending him onto the ground, but his gaze never left Loomis. The man was unguarded now and no matter the blood that was spilling from the holes in his flesh, Michael pushed his body up again.

With just one big step more he got close enough to reach Loomis. A deep growl pressed out of his throat when he grasped the wincing man and roughtly forced him back against one of the police cars. Shaking hands darted out to twist into his suit at his upperarms while his own hands curled around the Doctors neck immediately pressing tight enough to shut off his breath. Loomis whimpered something and got his head violently knocked into the cars frame in response. The next second another shot hit Michael, tearing a hole into his other shoulder, forcing him to losen his grip and hunch forward. The Doctor ducked down, caughting and panting he managed to get out from between Michael and the car. In the corner of his eye Michael saw him pulling something out of his coats pocket and before he had the chance to turn and grab him again that something sank into his neck, sending a burning sensation under his skin.

His body instantly began to get heavier and heavier, the flame inside him vanishing more with every passing second. Supporting his body on the car, he tried to shoo away the sudden dizzyness possesing his head shaking it firmly, but it only got worse. Shoes shuffled on the pavement and through a heavy blurr he had been able to see the officers coming closer, but no matter how hard he tried, his body refused to move. After that everything had went black and silent.

Now, he was back at Smith’s Grove, still sitting in Doctor Loomis office and listening to him debating with that woman about who knows what. Experimental treatments maybe? Possible, but he doesn’t cared. Everything he could think about was you. His fingers traced the cool metal of the handcuffs and with fear he was wondering what they had done to you. Probartely they brought you to Haddonfield cemetery, giving you a new grave there. Or they were still trying to find out your identity. If so you would be at the morgue, strangers fumbling around with your remains with their dirty little hands. The thought made his stomach flip. Not only imagine your current state teared his heart, but also to imagine strangers touching and examining you. They had absolutely no right to do that! You chose to be with him, to renounce big parts of a normal social life only to be able to stay with him! Nobody was allowed to touch you, except for him and he would make that clear!

The train of thoughts rushing through Michaels head coaxed a deep grumble out from between his lips and both Loomis and the women turned their heads staring at him in sudden silence. He gave them no further sign of life, remaining still like a statue with his gaze fixed onto his hands. „However…“, the woman said directing her attention back to Loomis, „…I’d like to know why he burried this one. There has to be something that seperates them from his other victims.“. Loomis watched her for a second, quirking his eyebrows up. Michael knew the Doctor muste’ve the same question, burning to get to know what was so different about you, but he would never find out. He rather would swallow his tongue than telling them about you. The Doctor sighed, „Well, that question won’t get answered. He never said a word that would’ve been usefull in any way and he most likely won’t now.“ Damn right! Michael shouted inwardly, his gaze traveling up, staring at Loomis and for the first time the Doctor was able to see something else written over his patients face than blankness and void. He saw anger, Michaels brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes, they promised him to try everything to get you back!


	3. I need to keep on searching

The blood on Michaels hands slowly began to dry when he pushed himself through a half open door with panes of frosted glass. He heard muffled voices, not able to understand what they were saying, but seemingly there were two people talking. Standing in almost complete darkness, through another ajar door fell bright rays of neon light. It illuminated the room he was in just enough to make the metal table in it’s middle glisten and reflect on the cooler right behind it. It lined up across the whole wall and he knew one of them was holding you, cold and alone. You shouldn’t be there, your rest so violently disturbed! But he would make up for it! The Doctor already faced his revenge, now the two strangers that dared to examine you were next.

It hadn’t been all too difficult to find a way to get to Loomis. Michael was used to the habits of Smith’s Grove, knowing the routine, knowing every little detail of the daily procedure. Inside that hellhole of a psychiatric hospital, every day was the same, only the treatments he received over the years changed from time to time. The patients needed a strict and always consistent routine they said. He guessed they were just glad the monotony turned most of the patients into empty shells. The good thing about it was that he just had to wait for a good chance and it occurred sooner than he thought it would. The medication he received had been different to the former ones they gave him at the hospital. Dr. Loomis made sure it would contain enough sedatives to even knock out an elephant, so it had been no wonder he felt dizzy and drained. The fact that you were gone made the effects the meds had more and more tempting, to let himself getting drowned in numbness and maybe even oblivion, but the Dr. had to pay! That and the thought of you being somewhere foreign made him go on.

He had been there for a few days when they took him out of his room and down the familar corridors. Smith’s Grove was built like a maze with endless seeming hallways, countless doors, stairs and corners, but Michael knew it like the back of his hand. Not only once had he wandered off, playing cat and mouse with the staff or escaped. They brought him into a room close to Loomis office. It was equipped with a table where a computer sat on, next to it a machine Michael recognized as an EEG. He got seated in front of the computer and no one said a word when a member of the staff started the machines, two others guarding the door. He hadn’t been able to remember them, but that was no surprise. The members off the staff changed more often than one their underwear. The computer came to life in front of him and while it booted up, his scalp got moistened and a tight fitting rubber cap squeezed onto his head. He always hated the way this thing clung to him, the wetness in his hair caursing an itch that nearly drove him nuts.

There was still nothing but silence when the electrodes got attached to the cap and to his tamples, the only noise a beeping from the computer here and there. It took several more moments of adjusting until the woman that fumbled around on him finally spoke. „We’re running some cognitive tests on you to see how intense the effects of the medication are.“, with that her hands grabbed his right wrist. She opened up the handcuff, allowing him to actually use the machine in front of him, while his left hand remained attached to the chain around his waist. His eyes followed her movememts when she explained what exactly he had to do, his resistance growing steadily. They were using him as a lab rat again! Tightening his jaws he gritted his teeth, wanting to lash out and hammer her head into the tabletop, but if he wanted to get to you, he had to play along. Increased safety measures wouldn’t be helpful.

It was right when the computer started the test program that the alarm went off. A high pitched beeping that send unpleasant waves through Michaels body whenever he heard it. Usually it went off at nights, at least more often than days, ripping him out of a light slumber or startling him out of his thoughts. When this noise rippled through the hallways, Michael knew things got hectical. It meant someone was freaking out completely and the beeping would shrill over all wards, alarming the whole staff something was happening. Not only once had it be him causing the offending sound and he knew exactly everyone got nervous when it went off. The protocol dictated that, when running tests or doing other appointments, one member of the staff always had to stay with the patient while the others took off. The three members guarding him were new, unexperienced and not used to the alarm like the old stagers were. Though it slightly surprised him how thoughtless they acted, the fact that the two guys left him alone with the woman couldn’t have been more practical. It played right into his cards, offering him the chance he needed.

The woman had appeared nervous, pacing through the small office room while Michael kept absolutely still. He pretended to concentrate onto the screen, being deaf for the still screaming alarm, but watched her from the corner of his eyes. His left hand had been still cuffed, his feet chained to each other, preventing proper steps, but his right hand was free and that would be enough. Waiting for the perfect moment, it came when she paced past him, throwing a short glance onto the screen to get a glimpse of how he he was doing. A startled gasp escaped her when Michael suddenly jumped up and grabbed her by the neck. Surprise and panic were written in her wide open eyes, but as much as he wanted to enjoy the moment and bath in her fear, there had been more important things waiting for him. A fast movement send her down onto the tabletop head first, her painfilled scream quickly dying in her throat when she sank to the floor. Blood graced her face, her nose obviously broken, maybe her cheekbones and eyesockets as well and it send a satisfication through Michael he hadn’t been able to fully resist. Admiring the sight, he worked hard to suppress the urge to end it completely. Inside his mind images flicked up, his hands on her throat strangling the life out of her or picking her limp body up and smashing her into the table over and over again until her skull would‘ve been crushed into thousand pieces.

Instead his free hand rummaged around her pockets after ripping the annoying cap from his head. It hadn’t took long to find the key that would set his other limbs free and when he had been able to fully move, he instantly made his way out of the room. The hallway had been empty and it was just then that he noticed the silence that had fallen over the building again. Who ever was causing the trouble had been tamed now, probartely strapped down and sedated. The staff would return to their left work quickly and he had to hurry. Losing no time his steps determinedly leaded him to Loomis office. He could find that room in total darkness, had he been there so often over the years, but now it would be different, now he would be in charge.

The door opened without resistance and he slipped in quickly, immediately shutting it behind him and locking it. Loomis had been sitting at his desk, brooding over some paperwork when his head snapped up with a confused look on his face, hearing the lock of the door click. „Micheal…“, he breathed in disbelief, the panic in his voice clear as day, the pencil he was writing with slipping from his grasp. They moved rapidly. Michael striding torwards the Doctor, Loomis jumping from his chair and pressing himself into a bookshelf at the wall. There was a short pause, lasting only a fraction of a second, but it had been enough for Michael to take everything in. The bastard knew exactly what he had done, staring at him with that paniced, but knowing gaze, and he would pay for it. Now!

Dashing forward and grabbing the Doctor, Michael collided into him with so much force the shelf behind them almost toppled and several books fell to the ground. The man gave a painfilled groan, only spuring Michaels rage. This wasn’t about him and Loomis, this was about you and what the psychiatrist did to you! This fact made repeadly smashing the man into the wooden shelf even more satisfying, every whimper and hiss sending a buzzing sensation through Michaels entire body. His hands found their way around the doctors throat, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. He wanted to yell at the psychiatrist, shout and scream his anger and sadness out at him, but he wouldn’t grant him this triumph. His grip made everything that radiated through him clear and he watched the life fading out of Loomis. The man had been pressed into the shelf, his feet above the floor and Michael closely oberserved the color of his face changing. It went from red to a shade of purple, hissing noises pressing out of the Doctors throat while his hands clawed into Michaels hospital gown and his feet fidgeted in the air. It was like watching a long unfinished artwork finally coming to completion.

Suddenly there were footsteps on the corridor and a door got opened. Michael heard a male voice curse and the next second the doorknob of Loomis office turned rapidly. The rattling died away after a few attempts, but then something solid collided with the door. When it finally gave way, the two guys that had been guarding him earlier bursted into the room and he had no other choice than to let go of Loomis. The Doctor fell to the floor, coughting and groaning and Michael used the only exit that was left. He firmly squeezed his eyes shut, his arms crossed over his chest, when he jumped through the window, glass shattering joined by the surprised gasps of the staff members. His impact had been hard and though he had tried to roll off as good as possible, something cracked in his left shoulder, sending a burning pain down over his arm and into his fingertips. A few glass splinters had pierced into his neck and hands, several trails of blood soaking the white fabric of the hospital gown, but the second after he had landed he had been up again, running like crazy.

Now, standing in the slightly light morgue, the sparkling of something small and metallic caught his attention. Carefull and silent steps carried him to a small cart, it’s top covered with a layer of paper sheet. Michaels head tilted from left to right when his fingers traced the small, metallic objects sitting on the carts top. It was hard to make out the shape in the poor light, but gently running his fingertips over the cool instruments, he managed to determine them. He came to an abrupt halt when he felt a tiny and vastly sharp blade under his observing touch. Lifting the scalpel up and holding it closely in front of his face, he eyed the petite object. It wasn’t as impressing or intimidating as the knives he used to kill with, but it would serve his needs. The situation was rare, but this time the fear of his victims would be incidental, important was getting you out there, taking you back to were you belonged, at his side.


End file.
